


Early Infection

by ConstantlyStories



Category: Hollow Knight (Video Games)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Gen, description kinda says it all, zombie apocalypse AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-24
Updated: 2020-08-24
Packaged: 2021-03-06 20:34:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,802
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26074999
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ConstantlyStories/pseuds/ConstantlyStories
Summary: If set during the earlier days of Hallownest's fall, Hollow Knight could be considered a zombie apocalypse story.
Comments: 4
Kudos: 26





	Early Infection

**Author's Note:**

> I've been playing Darkwood and started thinking that it would be interesting to stick HK characters into a similar setting. In this, Hallownest is aboveground, though the kingdom's layout is pretty much the same.
> 
> tbh the more I thought about it, the more I kinda want to write a serious zombie apocalypse au fic, thus combining my love for Hollow Knight with my desire to see a zombie apocalypse story that includes more than 'everything is terrible and everyone dies'. 
> 
> I might revisit this concept later, but until then, have a oneshot

It was almost funny how quickly the infection swept through the kingdom after the Pale King disappeared. It was as if, when the Hollow Knight, the first and last line of defense against the plague, failed, the king vanished into thin air. The rest of Hallownest was quick to fall after that.

Ghost darted through the ruins of Dirtmouth. Most was overrun by pulsing orange cysts, their glow the brightest light to be seen in the dead of night. Did the infected retreat into those grotesque pustules? No one really knew where they went after the sun went down.

Overhead, the sky was still dark, the moon having dipped below the cliffs. There was still an hour or so of darkness left. It was something to keep an eye on: the moment the sky began to change from black to gray, the infected would return to the street, and despite how many Ghost and their group had taken out, there were still more than enough to quickly overwhelm a single vessel.

They rounded the corner, sticking as close to the shadows as they could. This area was new to them, which meant there might be some supplies left. Most useful things were either already taken or broken beyond repair in the few blocks surrounding the hideout. The first few months of the infection had been rough.

Ghost hadn’t been there personally, but Hornet talked about it a lot when she bothered to talk at all. As one of the discarded vessels, they’d been kept in one of the Pale King’s labs. Supposedly Hollow had been created and kept in the same one, though they were taken elsewhere to contain the infection.

Even after staying in the hideout for weeks, Ghost still didn’t recall how they escaped, or really, anything before Hornet found them.

The nearest door creaked when they pushed it open and they winced at the sound. The infected didn’t respond to noise the same way they reacted to light, but it still wasn’t comforting.

Inside, the floor was covered in a mix of dust and dried viscera. Whoever had lived there probably met a grisly end. It wasn’t an uncommon occurrence.

There were a few jars of preserves in one of the cupboards and a blanket sat folded at the end of an orange-stained bed. Both were good finds, but Ghost had been hoping for medical supplies. Hollow’s injuries hadn’t gotten worse, but they weren’t getting any better either, and no one was confident that pattern would hold. While they’d shown the most resilience to it (they’d been created to contain it, after all), no one had ever actually recovered from the infection before.

Keeping the sky in mind, Ghost dashed between houses, pawing through various cupboards and drawers and taking anything that would fit beneath their cloak. It had been a while since they’d last found an area that hadn’t been completely cleared.

One crossed street and jumped fence later, they found out why.

Dirtmouth was just one district set around an area simply known as the Crossroads. A wall of stone separated the two, a single tunnel cutting through. In recent days, Hornet had been calling it the Infected Crossroads. The name was apt enough.

Where Dirtmouth had been overrun by the infection, the Crossroads looked to be its source. There were so many of those massive orange growths that the entire place hummed with a pulse that reverberated through Ghost’s shell. Veins ran through the rock, carrying its plague into the earth.

Having entered Dirtmouth from over the cliffs, Ghost had never been to the Crossroads before. What was out there? As dangerous as the infected roads suggested, passing through the Crossroads would give them access to the rest of the kingdom. Hornet hadn’t been hopeful, but surely there were a few more survivors, right? Their little family couldn’t be the only one still uninfected.

Despite the danger, Ghost found themself wandering forward. They wouldn’t stay long, they just wanted to know what was there.

The decision was getting harder to justify as the infection grew so thick it turned the air orange.

They should turn back.

Before they could, a large structure caught their eye, and before they could stop themself, they’d made their way over to it.

The building had been a church at one point, a place for the citizens to worship their king. According to Hornet, the place had been converted into something like a shrine when the infection took hold. It was where Hollow was supposed to seal the infection away, keep it contained within themself for eternity.

Ghost was glad the structure had been overrun, so much orange stretched across the stone that it may as well have been its original color. Maybe the king’s plan would’ve worked if Hollow had been more ‘ _pure’_ (whatever that meant) and maybe not. Despite their sibling’s insistence that they’d accepted their fate voluntarily, Ghost didn’t think any being should be subjected to such torture.

A noise sounded nearby, and they realized the sky was beginning to lighten. Gray chased away the black, and soon after, the gold of sunrise would paint the clouds. On the ground, the infection would return full force, those it had already infected returning to the streets to kill anything they could find.

Ghost made to run back the way they came (at least the tunnel wasn’t far off), but then they heard the sound of metal clashing against metal.

Some who had been infected still carried weapons and could use them nearly as well as a living bug. However, they didn’t fight each other.

If there was fighting, that meant a survivor.

There was little time to think, so Ghost acted on instinct. They drew their nail and raced toward the sound as fast as they could.

They found the source of the noise just a street over.

Infected had begun to fill the streets. The ones that wandered Dirtmouth looked far too ordinary, the only sign of infection being their empty orange eyes. The infected at the Crossroads were a different story.

Pulsing cysts covered some of their shells, and veins of infection ran across their bodies. Some were missing limbs, and some already had nail slashes in them. The injuries didn’t seem to slow them down, it was just another place for infection to bubble out of.

A single survivor ran ahead of the forming crowd. His shell was blue and stood out in sharp relief against all the orange, and he wore a larger mask like a hat, the white gleaming in the infected glow. The nail in his hand swept through the air in a deadly arc, infected shells splitting in its wake. The armed infected he’d been fighting before was already in pieces.

Even as Ghost watched, more infected began to converge on the area. If they were going to do something, they needed to hurry.

While the stranger struck down an infected that had jumped down from a rooftop, Ghost stabbed their nail through an infected’s shell.

“Hello there!” the stranger called. He sounded incredibly chipper considering the situation.

Unable to verbally reply and unsure of what they’d say even if they could, Ghost offered a brief wave before darting around another infected and striking it down from behind.

“Though I’m usually more observant than this, time managed to get away from me,” he continued, voice as casual as if the two were sitting for lunch. “Did you see the temple a few blocks over? I found it rather fascinating given its purpose.”

Ghost beheaded an infected when it tried to tackle them, and the stranger took out another that had stumbled out of an alleyway. “I don’t suppose you have a safehouse around here? The place I’ve been staying got overrun, and I daresay I’ve run out of time to properly search for a new one.”

It was the most sensible thing he’d said so far.

A flying infected bug came swooping down from above, and Ghost cut its belly out from under it before the thing could careen into the two survivors. When it dropped, they jumped over its cracked shell and pointed with their nail back to the tunnel.

“A wonderful idea!” the stranger sent another infected staggering before slicing it in two. “Please lead the way, friend.”

They did so just as the first rays of morning light began to peak over the cliffs.

Hornet stared pensively at the barricaded window. The boards had been set close together, covering the broken glass. Only a sliver of the outside world could be seen, though it was enough to determine that the sun was rising.

The sun was rising and Ghost still hadn’t returned.

Behind her, Hollow shuffled around restlessly. They lightly tapped a claw against the wall, getting her attention.

“I’m sure they’re fine,” Elderbug told the vessel. His voice was quiet and warm despite the circumstances. “Ghost is an incredibly talented little bug. I’m sure they will come back to us very soon.”

Hornet was inclined to agree, though she wished they’d kept a better eye on the light. She herself returned to the hideout long before the sky began to turn colors.

Then again, she was used to them cutting it close. She was fairly certain they pushed the limits of the infection just to see if they could, to see just how long they could last in the light, or how long they could remain out during the day before being mobbed.

As the sky continued to change, gray fading to palest gold, Hornet drew away from the window.

Though no one said it in so many words (probably because two out of the four couldn’t speak at all), Hornet had become the leader by default. During the first few waves, back when the town was still in chaos, Elderbug had invited her into his home since it was far safer than the small house she was hiding in before.

She wasn’t the only one either. At the time, there were a few others, but they were long gone now, either lost to infection or taking their chances with the barren wastelands beyond the Howling Cliffs.

For a while, it had just been Hornet and Elderbug, which was a strangely nice arrangement, different from how she’d lived in the past. He was kind and worried for her in the way that elders tended to do when younger bugs took risks, but he was never patronizing. Far from it, he regularly regarded her with a kind of fear and respect that would have been more expected if he knew exactly who she was.

Queen Herrah’s deal with the Pale King had been made behind closed doors and few knew about it, though Hornet recalled hearing the whispered rumors throughout her childhood. She wasn’t certain as to why her existence had been kept quiet (though she had her suspicions), only that no one recognized her as royalty when she swept through the kingdom, helping where she could.

She’d tried, and like the Pale King’s other progeny, failed. The kingdom was worse than dead, it was a writhing and hissing thing, choking on its own infection and yet somehow still moving. Out of all of Hallownest’s citizens, she’d rescued three. What a queen.

Outside, there were shuffling footsteps. Infected bugs growled and gurgled as they wandered past.

The sun continued to rise and Ghost was still missing.

Part of being a leader was making hard decisions, decisions she knew Hollow wouldn’t like. Pulling away from the window, Hornet picked up one of the boards by the door.

Hollow was on their feet in an instant, rushing to her side despite their injuries. It hurt to look at them, at the places on their shell that were still stained orange from where they’d lost their right arm to infection.

“If we don’t barricade the door, we run the risk of something getting in,” Hornet said quietly.

Hollow shook their head and pointed at the window.

“If Ghost was going to come back, they’d be here already. Either they found a place to wait out the day or…” She found she couldn’t bring herself to finish that thought.

Though technically her half-siblings, she’d never thought of the vessels as family before. Understandable, given she only knew of them in theory for most of her life, and the little she’d been told suggested the vessels were as empty as, well, vessels. They weren’t bugs, they weren’t alive, they didn’t think or feel or hurt.

Another utter failure of the King, but Hornet didn’t say so out loud.

“Couldn’t we wait just a bit longer?” Elderbug asked. His voice was sad. He knew the answer, but he too cared about Ghost.

“No, we –”

Outside, there was the sound of running and fighting. Infected growled and gurgled with even more fury.

Hollow pointed at the window again, arm waving frantically. When Hornet didn’t respond as quickly as they wanted, they turned and reached for their nail.

“I will go!” Hornet snapped before their hand could close around the metal hilt. Frustration and anxiety made her hiss as she set the board back onto the floor. “If I’m not back in five minutes, barricade the door.” It was a wasted request since neither Elderbug nor Hollow could physically do so (and neither would want to anyhow) but she felt better for making it.

The too-sweet smell of infection hit her as she eased the door open a crack and slipped out onto the street. Though the sky was only getting brighter, she didn’t see any infected bugs wandering about.

She soon learned it was because they were all converging elsewhere.

A block away, a crowd of infected was beginning to form. Husks charged the area blindly, bumping into each other and running over others as they went.

At the center of the mob, two nails flashed in the morning light.

Ghost and another bug were fighting their way through.

Knowing better than to hesitate, Hornet darted forward, needle in hand. Dirtmouth unfortunately lacked any tall buildings for her to anchor silk to, so she was forced to remain on the ground, dashing through the infected crowd and slashing her needle through anything that got within range.

“Hello!” a very cheery voice called.

Ignoring him, Hornet dodged around a husk as it charged at her. When she threw her needle, the point speared through its shell and burst out the other side with enough force to also impale the husk behind it.

“You’re quite skilled!” that same voice commented, and Hornet turned to find its owner as she retrieved her needle. He looked to be a very simple bug, though the larger mask he wore was notable. She didn’t have time to think of why. “Are you a friend of the little wanderer?”

Ghost struck down a nearby infected and jumped over its shell. They waved.

“Let’s get back to the hideout,” Hornet told them. Most of the infected were dead at that point, but more would come. The day had just barely begun.

“Agreed!” the stranger chirped.

Hornet didn’t even know his name and already he was getting on her nerves.

Still, she let Ghost lead him back to Elderbug’s house while Hornet took out a few of the remaining infected that were getting just a bit too close for comfort.

The air reeked of infection and the light above was only getting stronger, making it hard to see around the glare.

Ghost and their new acquaintance stumbled in through the door and Hornet darted in after them.

“Ah, I am glad to see you unharmed!” Elderbug exclaimed. “We were quite worried. And you’ve brought a friend!”

Though unable to verbally express it, Hollow looked equally relieved, nodding in enthusiastic agreement.

The moment the door swung shut behind her, she reached again for one of the boards that leaned against the wall. Under normal circumstances, she would’ve preferred to wait and see what kind of bug the stranger was before she trapped her group indoors with him, but the commotion on the streets had attracted the attention of the surrounding infected, and even more began appearing as she barricaded the door.

Ghost materialized at her side and handed her another board.

“Hello, everyone,” the stranger said. “Thank you for letting me take shelter here with you. My name is Quirrel.”

“It’s good to meet you,” Elderbug told him. “You can call me Elderbug. The little one is Ghost and the taller is –”

“The Hollow Knight,” Quirrel interrupted, his voice a mix of awe and sorrow. Addressing the taller vessel directly, he added “it is an incredible honor to meet you, my friend, though I sincerely wish it were under better circumstances.”

Hollow didn’t seem to know how to respond to that, offering an awkward nod of acknowledgement.

With the door about as barricaded as it could be, Hornet turned back to the others. “I am Hornet,” she said. “You’re the first survivor we’ve seen in a while,” she told Quirrel. “What are you doing here?”

“I was staying in Fog Canyon when the infection hit,” Quirrel explained. He seemed friendly enough, but there was something about his presence that Hornet found hard to trust. “Despite being located so close to the kingdom’s heart, the archives managed to escape the worst of things until now. I was forced to move when it became overrun, and now I’m here!”

“The archives?” So, that was why the mask he wore looked familiar. He had Monomon’s mask.

But what did that mean?

“The archives,” Quirrel agreed, a note of sadness in his voice. “I was its last caretaker after the teacher was put into stasis.”

The three Dreamers had been intended to be used as seals upon the Hollow Knight, keeping them trapped within the black egg and the infection trapped with them. The plan fell apart almost immediately, the magic losing its hold when the Crossroads became overrun.

Hornet knew this, but she wasn’t sure why Quirrel’s words sparked such a reaction in Hollow.

The taller vessel gave a sharp nod and patted the ground enthusiastically to get everyone’s attention.

Ghost too seemed to grow excited, one hand waving in agreement with their sibling.

“Care to explain?” Hornet said. She didn’t like being so far out of the loop.

Quirrel held up his hands. “I’m as lost as you, my friend.”

Hollow looked around for something to aid in their explanation, but Ghost beat them to it, withdrawing their map from their cloak and unfolding it across the ground. The others gathered around as the little vessel pointed out the area marked as Fog Canyon, drawing a line from Dirtmouth to the archives.

It was a long way. If that really was where he was from, how did Quirrel survive such a journey? Dirtmouth was bad, but everywhere else was worse, the infection growing more severe toward the kingdom’s center.

Ghost tapped the map a few times before gesturing to themself and then Hollow. Whatever they were saying, the taller vessel seemed to agree, nodding as they looked to Hornet.

“Ah, I think I see what you mean,” Quirrel said thoughtfully.

“And?” Hornet prompted when he grew quiet for too long.

“Monomon had been involved with the vessel project,” Quirrel explained. “Though the king ordered to erase all evidence of her involvement, she kept many notes regarding their creation, as well as whatever information had been gathered regarding the infection. Is that what you mean?” He looked to the vessels.

Apparently so, as both nodded and Ghost gestured for him to keep talking.

“Well, being a simple archivist, I was barred access from such information. However, I believe that right before becoming a Dreamer, Monomon had been working on something important. I am tentative about giving false hope, but I think she was looking for a cure.”

There was a moment of silence as everyone let the idea sink in.

The infection and its cause were more complex than a simple disease, but a cure would be a start to making a real stand against the plague that had swept through Hallownest.

Ghost seemed to think so, anyway. They looked up at Hornet and pointed enthusiastically, first to the map and then to Quirrel.

“Keeping information from the king is a dangerous game,” Hornet said slowly. “How can you be sure, archivist? If you were barred access as you said, why do you know so much?”

“I couldn’t help the limitations of my position, but I’ve learned that rules don’t mean very much when not enforced.”

He must’ve been referring to Monomon’s leniency, because Hornet was quite certain he’d have been executed if the king had gotten word of his findings. Bugs had been killed for less. She didn’t think saying so out loud would be beneficial.

“The research wasn’t going anywhere anyway,” Quirrel continued, apparently oblivious to how close he’d been to dying for his transgressions. “She believed the cure to lie within the void, and despite the notes and few samples she’d taken from the king, she didn’t have access to the Abyss, especially after the City of Tears was overrun.” He looked to Ghost. “This remains to be true, though there is a chance a living vessel might make an appropriate substitute. Even without the king’s workshop, Monomon’s own lab might be enough to continue her studies.”

Head tilted thoughtfully, Hollow pointed out the location set beneath the Royal Waterways. They could do one better: they could open the way to the Abyss itself.

“Wait a moment,” Hornet said before the conversation could devolve any more than it already had. She fixed Quirrel with a hard stare, studying the other bug carefully. “If I am understanding correctly, you want to bring Hollow and Ghost back to the archives so they can be used as fodder for the teacher’s research. Research that, I am assuming, you intend to conduct yourself as the teacher is in stasis.”

“Well, I wouldn’t presume myself in a position to demand anything, nor would I wish to do so, given the nature of the request. But yes, if they are willing, that was my idea.”

There were about 5 million ways that could go wrong, and Hornet still had no reason to trust him. However, before she could express any of that, something heavy slammed into the door hard enough to make the boards crack. Claws scratched against the wood on the other side and there was a horrible gurgling sound.

Ghost jumped to their feet, nail in hand. They dashed over to the door as it shuddered, the barricade creaking ominously.

“This conversation isn’t over,” Hornet hissed as she raised her needle. “But for now, let’s focus on surviving the day.”


End file.
